


Flowers in the Attic

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark Dean Winchester, Dark Sam Winchester, Evil Dean Winchester, Evil Sam Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Mark of Cain, Original Angel Character - Freeform, original demon character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1314997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is going insane, and all Sam can blame is the Mark of Cain, because that's whats at fault right? Dean on the other hand, isn't so sure and after running away and leaving Sam behind, he begins to see his and Sam's relationship in a whole new light. Can Sam find Dean in time to stop the Mark of Cain from driving Dean insane, evil, or possibly kill him? Warning: Angsty but Smutty. For my Butterbug, kiss kiss fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Drop

The first drop hit Dean’s skin. He remembered what had happened now, it all seemed clear. The warm droplets formed steam as Dean stood there without moving at all, the voice banging in his head. It said the same thing, over and over again, how much clearer could it be? His skin was burning from the mellow droplets morphing into sharp little blades of fire. Yes. Thinking back now, he remembers. It is clear. Dean turned the water off.

He stepped out of the shower, the mirror so cloudy with steam he couldn't see his own reflection and even if he could, he wasn't sure he’d want to. His right arm burned, specifically the Mark of Cain. Looking down, he watched as tiny droplets rolled off his skin and onto the floor. He was soaking wet but couldn't bring himself to grab a towel.

Instead, he stood, just looking at the Mark. He remembered what he had done, before speeding the Impala across three states just to stay in a low rate motel room.

At the time, it was all so damp, muddled in his memory.

But now…

_The gunshots were not as loud as Dean had anticipated. The metal fragments, spiraling through the air, pierced his chest and torso without consideration, without real meaning or relevance, and with more speed than the fastest of living things. The small wounds in his flesh leaked blood much like the way crying eyes leak tears. He was stunned, to know he was dying, and not be overwhelmed by the emotion he had grown accustomed that accompanied such a violent end. There was something altogether serene as he bled out, losing consciousness with a smile on his face._

_And then it stopped._

_The bullets reversed their direction with sick wet pops, as they slipped out of Dean. The trenches they had left in his chest sealed themselves, it was at this moment he first noticed the scorching pain in his right arm. The Mark of Cain glowed dully against his skin and he watched as the bullets that had previously found home in him, take a course now directed at the monster he had been fighting. The monster tried to run, its shoes screeching on the slick ground, a sound only amplified by the close alley walls. Before he could escape the bullets contacted his head, sending skull and brain matter scattering over the alley walls._

_Dean felt a wave of pleasure roll over him, the Monster’s death giving him a twisted sense of satisfaction. He walked over and kicked over the body, barely anything was recognizable, his face having been destroyed beyond recognition. Despite the fact that Dean knew it wasn’t possible for bullets of such a small caliber to cause so much damage, he didn't think about it. It was only when he heard Sam calling his name that he knew he had to leave, he had to run._

Later, hours after, Dean realized it wasn't so much that he was afraid of the implications of Sam seeing the damage his Mark had caused but that he didn't want to see the look on Sam’s face; the look of worry and concern that Dean had been seeing so often lately.

And now, he lay in bare skin on cheap motel fabric, unwilling to move or clothe himself. He was tired of running from all his problems, tired of always being under scrutiny, from Dad, from Castiel, but most importantly from Sam.

Sam, his brother, his _god_ like brother who didn’t trust him anymore, and wouldn’t even lower himself to look him straight in the eyes anymore, his brother, who Dean had always felt unnatural feelings towards, his brother, whose most recent rejection of Dean was enough to make Dean nearly… _oh so nearly._

Scars ran horizontally on his thigh, most old from when he was younger and travelling with Sam and his father. Others...they were the deepest and the freshest. Apparently the Mark of Cain didn't work unless it was someone else trying to harm him, and a part of him, a large part, regretted that.

Without Sam, Dean felt like anything… **everything** keeping him sane was slowly slipping away and he was too clumsy to get it back. He laid there without moving at all, the voice still banging in his head. Sam’s voice,

_Dean, I just want to keep things strictly business._

and suddenly all at once Dean stood mechanically, his body rigid. He put on clothes, jeans and a t-shirt, his normal attire. 

He was overcome by a craving so strong even in his self-pitying depression he couldn't ignore it. He craved that pleasure he felt when he saw the scattered remnants of that  _thing._ He craved the satisfying  **splat** sound it's brains made as they collided with alley walls and pavement. 

He  _craved-_ no, that was where his insanity ended. Dean, even in his murderous and primitive delusion wouldn't allow those thoughts to cross his mind. Not right now, right now was for more carnal things.

As he grabbed his jacket, he debated collecting the keys to the Impala but finally decided to leave them where they rested.

_Let them gather dust, let them rust and fall away for all I care._

Dean slammed the door of the motel with room with a purpose and an air of finality. 

As the dust and dank settled back around the motel room, hugging all of Dean's possessions in comfort. A light blinked out from the darkness, it buzzed and blinked calling out in urgency but, of course, there was no one around to here it's violent call. For several minutes it blinked out it's shrill call into the darkness, unwilling to give up before finally silencing for good. 

On the screen blinked a message, insane in its solitude.

_**3 missed calls from Sam Winchester** _

_"Dean, Dean please I don't know where you are and I've been trying all your other cell phones for hours. Call me please."_

_"Dean! Pick up the phone, I've tried tracking the GPS on your cell but somethings blocking it. Did you take out the tracking devices, please Dean, I need to know your okay. You've been acting so strange lately and I don't know where you are, please! Call me back."_

_"Dean....I will find you, Dean. Whether you are hurt or whether your just hiding from me, I will find you. I WILL FIND YOU. Call me."_

The First Drop fell. 

 


	2. Smoke and Sweat

The intermingled smells of smoke, sweat, and too many people instantly assaulted Dean’s nostrils causing him to inhale deeply.

 _Ahhh, it's good to be home._  He thought, sarcastically; predatory. He pushed his body through the pulsating throng of people. Finding his way to an empty bar stool in the corner; he caught a stranger’s eye, shook his head and smiled downward.

Laughing to himself at the ease of it, trapping someone with just a smile and blush, as though he were a giddy teenager. Motioning to the bartender, he mouthed "Gin...and Tonic" and the bartender nodded and melted away into the cries of a hundred other thirsty patrons. 

  
By now, Dean’s eyes were adjusting to the imminent darkness, tomblike and encompassing.

Bright spots of neon Goth symbols on the wall stood out, illuminating the faces and cleavage and mohawks of the crowd, while others disappeared into the contrasting blackness.

  
A moment later, before his thought was even finished, his Gin and Tonic was slid in front of him, and the bartender was gone before he could thank the man.

Dean leaned over the counter a bit to admire the bartender’s kilt, having found himself in a Goth club, he noticed many of the men in kilts, eyes rimmed with kohl, and dangerous amounts of Ecstasy passing from one club goer to the next.

  
He took his first sip of the simple mixture, cold and icy, slightly sweet and tangy against his lips. Dean held the drink in his mouth for just a moment and let the ice, Gin and slip of lime pulp wallow against his tongue; though the drink was more like a vitamin than anything that could intoxicate him at this point, it began to paradoxically take the edge of his craving and amplify it so that it was pulsating with the music at the front of his mind.

  
He felt a pair of hands on his waist then, and straightened at the sensation. Turning quickly, Dean’s eyes locked with the stranger’s he had smiled at earlier, and there were no words that could sum up the intense wave of carnal desire as Dean looked at the man; Dean licked his lips.

The stranger’s hands fell from Dean’s hips, and his skin bristled at the touch. The small hairs on his arms raised, despite the heat. _This one._ The voice in Dean’s mind said, and then repeated. _This one. This one. This one. This one._

 Just as soon as as Dean felt him, he was gone, dancing off into the throng, smiling and touching a dozen other men and women in the same casually, yet intimate fashion. Dean stood, his drink and bill forgotten, and followed the stranger into the crowd.

_This one._

Dean found the stranger dancing with another man but chuckled as he lightly shoved the guy out of the way and swung his arms around the stranger's neck. The stranger made no noise of complaint as Dean began to grind his hips into the other man. 

"Name's Micheal." The stranger no more shouted into Dean's ear.

The smile that stretched across Dean's face, almost made his skin crack. How poetic,  _a Micheal._  

"Yeah? I'm Dean." 

They ground against each other fervently, and Dean could feel the other man's hardness against his thigh. It disgusted him, he couldn't stand the thought of anyone touching him except-  _No. This one._

He leaned into Micheal's ear, "Wanna get out of here?"

Micheal looked around for a moment before following Dean out of the throbbing crowd and into cool night. The night air refreshed Dean with a new sense of purpose and he smiled again. Looking back at Micheal, he could finally distinguish Micheal's own features with help from the light of street posts. He was tall, taller than Dean but still no where close to-  _No._ His eyes where a shocking pale blue, most certainly contacts and his black hair was tied back into a ponytail. It looked greasy and it disgusted Dean to no end. He had sharp cheek bones and fake vampire bites on his neck. Dean had to turn his head away to keep Micheal from seeing the disgusted look on his face. 

Dean motioned for him to follow as he turned into a near by alley. 

As soon as Dean was in the cover of darkness, he felt Micheal push him up against a wall. His back dug into the sharp brick and a light hiss rushed past his teeth. It wasn't long before Micheal had his mouth on Dean's, attacking him with his tongue. Dean parted his lips slightly, allowing Micheal access to his mouth.

Dean reached into his back pocket, pulling out the switch blade hidden there, trailing it over his own arm lightly, making himself shiver in anticipation before stabbing Micheal in the side. 

"What the fuck!" Micheal stumbled backwards and ripped the knife from inside him, looking down incredulously. Blood soaked his black T-shirt, making the fabric cling to his skin with sickening moist sounds. Dean remained pressed against the alley wall, smiling sadistically. His shoulder's slouched forward as he watched Micheal's facial expression change from that of in credulousness to rage. 

_Come on.....come on....._

Micheal lunged at Dean shoving the knife into Dean's abdomen as he did. An insane laugh bubbled from Dean's lips as Micheal shoved him the the ground. It wasn't long before the knife began to find its way out of Dean's body, wriggling and tugging as though it had a mind of its own. As it slipped from his torso in a sickening pop, reminding him of the day previous, and redirected its gaze towards Micheal. The knife plunged itself into Micheal's chest and continued to work its way through muscle and bone until it fell out on the other side. The sick sound of Micheal's scream filled Dean's ears causing waves of pleasure to roll through him. 

He stood, his wound healed, and picked up the knife. Lowering himself down to Micheal's face, he began to carve an Angel banishing sigil into his cheek, although it had no effect, the irony was not lost on Dean.

"You si...sick....son..." Micheal's voice collapsed as he died and Dean felt as a last goodbye to finish for him.

"Son of a bitch." He dug through Micheal's pocket only to come up with a stick of black eyeliner and five bucks. He scoffed and tossed the money but kept the liner.

He walked out of the alley, his dark shirt concealing the blood that stained him. He walked until he came upon a window, reflective enough for him to rim his eyes in dark eyeliner. He then proceeded to walk back into the Goth club and apply for a job.

The voice in his head, which he now recognized as his own, whispered.... _oh this is going to be...FUN._

  _ **4 missed calls from Sam Winchester**_

  
 _Dean I've been scanning the police radio, there was a murder in some town a couple states over. The guy had sigils burned into him. It's you, I can feel it. It's you, I'm coming to get you Dean, it'll be okay. It'll be okay._

_It'll be okay._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. The Second Drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: It only gets darker from here on in....so yeah be careful my little Butterbugs.

Dean returned to the motel with a bounce in his step. As soon as the manager had seen him, black eyeliner and  _really awesome fake blood, I mean seriously dude how did you get it to look so real?_ he was given the job. Working as a bouncer or dancer or bar tender, really any job was his. 

Dean began whistling  _Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi_ as he opened his motel door. He flicked on the lights and was greated by an empty room.

He had almost expected Sam to show up by no- his thoughts cut off.  _Sam._

Dean slammed the door closed and ran into the bathroom. Heavy, suffocating breathes forming in his chest. He looked into the clear mirror, disgusted by what he saw, he began tearing at his shirt.

"Get...off....me!" He ripped until the shirt was mere shreds and continued tearing until large red welts began forming on his chest, arms, and back. The longer he looked in the mirror, the angrier he became.

"That was an innocent man!" He screamed at his reflection slamming his fist into the mirror. "But...but it felt so....right. So...good." He brought his busted hand to his lips biting down gently on his fist in thought.

His Mark started to itch, and as he reached down to scratch it, he became overwhelmed by a sense of exhaustion.

With a nod to his broken mirror, Dean stumbled out into the main room and collapsed onto the motel bed.

 

 

 

 Hours later, Dean awoke on his back, the dawn filtering in through the motel shades. 

He began to sit up when he noticed the strained tent in his jeans and the pain in his groin. Laying back down he began to undo his jeans, realeasing his hard cock from its restraints.

Sitting up, he began slowly to remove his shoes and jeans, careful to avoid any contact with himself until he was fully nude. Again he laid back down on the bed, ignoring the way the scratchy motel sheets felt on his bare back and thighs. 

It was then that he began to slowly grasp himself, slowly working his way up and down as he had done countless times before. Then, just as before, the same images of the same man began playing in Dean's mind. Polaroid snapshots that Dean had tucked away within his mind for moments like this. 

_Sam steps out of the shower, its a few days before he leaves for college, but Dean doesnt focus on that. Right then he only notices the way Sam's towel is hanging loosely around his waist, just barely holding up. Dean can see every drop of water that drips down Sam's hair and onto the chiseled muscles of his chest, trailing slow wet kisses down his torso. Dean uses all his will to resist the urge to lick them off of his baby brother's  body._

Suddenly the image changes, into a new film that Dean had never seen before. Fantasies weren't really Dean's thing, he referred reality to something only he made up but the movie playing out in his head had his hand picking up a much faster pace and his breathes coming in short moans and gasps.

 _Dean waa back in the alley, the one near the goth club with its intoxocating scent of smoke and sweat. The brick was once again piercing into his skin but it wasnt Micheal assualting his lips, it was Sam. Sam's hand was clasped low around Dean's throat, so as not to sufficate him. Sam's arousal was firm against his legs and they where so close there wasn't a part of them that wasn't touching. His tongue explores Sam's mouth and his_ hands _grasped tightly at his brother's jacket. When they finally broke apart for some air, Dean noticed the blood first, the body second, and the knife stick grasped in Sam's left hand last. Sam was covered in the blood of their victim, as was Dean, and it only aroused him even more._

_"Sammy..." Dean muttered, his voice husky, verging on dangerous._

_Sam smiled, a reflection of Dean's earlier psychotic grin. He then dropped to his knees in front of Dean, tearing at his jeans before releasing Dean's throbing cock._

_"Dean..." Sam whispered, looking up at his brother. "I've waited for so long Dean..."_

_Sam kissed the tip of Dean's head, before beginning to suck at the head of Dean's cock._

_Dean gasped, before biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood._

_He felt something cold and metallic against his outer thigh and realized Sammy had both hands on his thighs, taking in more of Dean's dick with his mouth as well as resulting in the press of the knife against Dean's scars._

_Dean couldn't stop himself from moaning then, grabing fist fulls of Sam's hair, and panting more and more as Sammy quickened his speed._

_"Sammy..." Dean's calls for his baby brother escalated in volume until he finally reached a climax._

Dean relaxed into the bed, sweat and his own sticky substance on his fingers and thighs.

If he had the energy to, he speculated he might have been disgusted with himself but he already gave up so much time to self-loathing he figured  _why waist precious energy?_

When he recovered from his orgasm, he stood. Swaying a bit he found his way to the shower and let the boiling water scorch away everything he found undesirable about his situation.

 

 

_**5 missed calls from Sam Winchester** _

_Dean, I'm a few miles outside the town I think you might be in. I don't know if your hearing these. Dean please call me back. Please I'm worries about you and I...you are my family, Dean. My brother. Please, call me if you get this._

 

 

The Second Drop fell.


	4. Baby and Lucifer

The man wiped a black handkerchief across his sweaty brow and frowned. Deep wrinkles where creased around his eyes and mouth, equal parts laughter and misery. Unknown to him, his liver was clogged with puss and the remnants of ten long years an alcoholic. His standard police uniform strained against his protruding belly, jiggling and stretching as he squirmed in his chair. His beard was filthy and littered with drops of bear and left over pretzels.

His cheeks where merry, as though he had just run a long ways; he had merely climbed a set of stairs. He took another sip of beer, using old police reports to wipe up the circle of condensation that had formed on his work table. His work table was a collection of long forgotten cold case files, stained with beer and other undetermined liquids; they where not his focus right now.

In front of him where photo's of his most recent dead end, a stabbing outside of the  _local goth shit-hole._ It wasn't the cause of death that intrigued him, it was the angel banishing sigil that had been carved into the man's cheek. 

 **Police officer Sid Bleak** had encountered demons, angels, and all manor of the supernatural. He was well acquainted with several hunters; he fingered through a list of phone number's he kept with him. 

_Hi is this Samuel Winchester?_

_...It's just Sam, how can I help you?_

_I have a problem, someone's going around carving sigils into human faces. Sound like your kind of thing?_

_I'm actually all ready in town, so yeah I'll try and help any way I can._

_Thanks son I appreciate it._

_Sure, no problem. Hey do you think you could help me with something?_

_Anything..._

Bleak stood shakily glared at his empty bottle. He turned to head back downstairs, he would need another. 

 

* * *

 

 

Anika rolled her eyes, pushing Dean up against the bathroom wall. 

"Give it here." She held out her hand, a mother like stance adopting itself to her small frame. 

He reluctantly gave her the eyeliner. She began lining his eyes, keeping her knee pushed up against his thigh to keep him still. "Stop moving!" She whispered harshly, smudging the eyeliner for a smokey effect.

Dean met Anika his first hour working, she was one of the goth dancer's and so was her girlfriend, Baby. Anika had caught Dean's eye as he spoke with the manager, luckily for her Dean's dark appetite had been sated for the moment, so instead he found in her companionship.

"Listen Kitty if you do not stop moving, I'm going to stab you in the eye with this pencil and Baby's gonna hide the body." Dean rolled his eye at the ridiculous stage name Anika had invented for him, serves him right for trusting the small she-devil. When she was finally done assaulting him with the eyeliner, she started working on her own face. Both Anika and Baby danced a set together, their job to satisfy the bi curious and lesbian _"powder puff crowd."_ as Anika called them. 

Dean leaned against the bathroom wall, in the rare form of relaxing, his arms crossed across his chest. Anika was subtle about her goth fashion, black skinny jeans that where torn around the knees and thigh, the tear large enough to reveal the edge of black lace panties and a tight fitting tank that barely held in her breasts. She had longer dark blue hair that reached down to her back and bright blue eyes. Dean praised the fact that no contact lenses where needed.  

When she turned back to him she tucked the liner into the pocket of his jeans wordlessly and patted his stomach. "Come on Kitty, show time."

Anika had invited Dean to watch her and Baby's performance, seeing as he had yet to even see Baby, he couldn't refuse; especially with the way Anika rambled on about Baby. As they navigated the dark crowded hallway Dean was stopped by the manager. He leaned into Dean's ear and whispered, "Take notes. Their club favorites and if you wanna make any money here try and tap into whatever they have. K?" 

Dean nodded before continuing to push his way through the crowd that was slowly making its way to the single stage. He managed to find a table that Anika had charitable reserved for him, and him alone. He was pleased to find a single unopened beer present on the table. 

The stage was a simple T shaped runway, that led back to a stage that took up a large part of the club that wasn't a dance floor. One pole was centered at the end of the runway and when the black velvet curtains pulled away from the stage, a single chair was revealed.

All the music in the club stopped. Everyone was quieted immediately. 

"Ladies and gentlemen..." A voice came on over the speaker's and Dean instantly recognized the manager's voice. "Tonight we have a very special treat for you. Two of our top selling AND most  _beautiful_ ladies have agreed to do a duet performance." The manager paused as the crowd clapped, whistling and hollering. "I'm sure you've guessed it by now....introducing.... _LUCIFER AND BABY_." 

Dean choked on his beer.  _Lucifer? Seriously, Anika?_

Lucifer stepped onto stage, still in the same outfit from earlier, only this time her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail and the blue lighting from the spotlight seemed to make her glow. She slipped onto the chair, facing the audience and crossed her legs as though waiting for someone. The audience was silent; Dean took this moment to realize that she didn't have any shoes on. 

"How's everyone doing tonight?" She asked casually and the crowd cheered loudly in response, even Dean hollered incoherently. The microphone was the type one might see a singer wear, wireless and connected over her ear to a piece that hovered near her mouth. Dean was starting to doubt the sincerity of the whole performance. 

 Another voice came over the speaker,

"Oh Lucy?" Dean was taken aback by the new comers voice, it was female but much  _darker_ than Lucifer's. Speaking of which was looking to the side of the stage, past the curtain and beyond the audiences point of view. 

"Yes Baby?"

A women stepped from behind the curtain, she was  **not** what Dean was expecting, from both the voice and Anika's description of her. Baby was not Goth, she was PASTEL goth. Her hair was much shorter than Lucifer's, it only reached just past her shoulder blades and one side was shaved, it was baby blue. Her eyes where black and instead of rimmed with the customary black eyeliner, they where rimmed with white, making her thick dark eyelashes stand out. Her outfit was a different matter entirely, if one could call it that at all. An extremely short white skirt and shiny silver  _small_ tank top clung to her, barely covering just below her breasts. 

Dean was in a moment of shock. She was a stark contrast to Lucifer, like Yin and Yang. 

Her black heels clicked against the floor as she walked over to stand behind Lucifer's chair. Leaning forward to wrap her arms around Lucifer, she nuzzled her before whispering into the mike, "I'm home."

Then they danced. 

Never had Dean seen two...strippers so in sync when they danced. Each matched the other's movements perfectly and the aura of intimacy they projected made Dean feel like he was an outsider gifted with seeing them danced. The longer he watched them dance the more he began to notice subtle differences in how they danced. Lucifer defiantly read as the more masculine of the two, she was much more possessive in how she danced. Claiming Baby as her own with little unnecessary touches to her hips or shoulders as they danced. Baby however, Baby just looked so oblivious to any audience, he entire being focused in on Lucifer. 

It gave Dean  _joy_ to watch them dance and yet somehow it made him miss his lo- _no._

Dean was lost in his mind, battling against the pivoting emotions he was feeling about his younger brother. It was a second before he realized that Lucifer was crouched on the stage in front of him, holding a hand out to him, beckoning him. 

"Uh oh Lucy, I think we have a brain dead one here." Dean glared at Baby but then just became confused. Her head was tilted and her facial expression was one of complete seriousness. 

Lucifer chuckled and grasped Dean's hand. "Come on Kitty."

Dean stood and hopped onto the stage. He kicked off his black boots and socks, he was now barefoot like Lucifer. Baby giggled. 

"Lucy I think he's wearing way to much, what about you?" Baby stepped up besides Lucifer and looked him up and down. Lucifer looked at Baby and nodded before moving around to stand behind Dean. 

Dean looked back at her and smirked, lifting his arms. 

Baby and Lucifer grasped the edge of his shirt simultaneously and removed the article of clothing, revealing Dean's bare torso. Both of them whistled. 

"Hot damn, I might just go straight for this one." Baby whispered conspiratorially to the crowd, they cheered. 

"Not on my watch!" Lucifer said and stepped from around Dean, grabbing his hand so that he was forced to follow her back to the main stage, when he passed Baby he could smell the strong scent of Old Spice. 

"Dance for us Kitty!" Lucifer and Baby left Dean at the chair and continued their partner routine at the pole on the opposite end of the runway. The crowd was divided between Dean Winchester and the possibly the world's hottest lesbians. Somehow a few decided Dean was worth a shot and waited for him to start. A new song began to play, something he recognized and he started to feel a spark of inspiration ignite. 

 _"This is not the way into my heart, into my head  
Into my brain, into none of the above_ _"_

Dean started to sway, a bit.

 _"This is just my way of unleashing the feelings deep inside of me  
This spark of black that I seem to love._ _"_

The audience started to notice and even Lucifer and Baby slowed down to watch as Dean began to dance. From under the hot spot light, sweat began to roll down Dean's chest and abs. His hands moved up and down his body as he rolled and swayed, excitement rippling through the crowd. 

 _"We can get a little crazy just for fun, just for fun  
Don't even try to hold it back  
Just let go  
Tie me up and take me over till you're done  
Till I'm done  
You've got me fiendin' and I'm ready to blow_ _'"_

 The spotlights where so bright that Dean couldn't see far into the crowd, he could barely make out Lucifer's own silhouette. He could feel the energy from the crowd and the pleasure that rolled through him at the attention was rivaled only by the pleasure he'd felt the nights previous. 

_"Push up to my body, sink your teeth into my flesh_   
_Get undressed, ta-taste the flesh_   
_Bite into me harder, sink your teeth into my flesh_   
_Pass the test, ta-taste the flesh"_

In the furthest corner of the club a figured rested against the wall. His hat covered his face and his pristine suit was out of place in the sea of writhing Gothic mass. He face was covered in shadow but his eyes where narrowed on... _Kitty._

His fists where clenched and soon the stranger pulled away from the wall. He calmly navigated the swarm and took a last look back at Kitty, a primal smirk, almost mocking graced his features quickly before he slipped out into the night. 

 

 

**_6 missed calls from Sam Winchester_ **

 

 

_Found you._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. The Mark Itched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my little ButterBugs, just a heads up, for all of you who think this will be getting any less dark anytime soon...listen closely....
> 
> hear that?
> 
> It's the sound of your hope dying. 
> 
> Love, Baby.
> 
> P.S Be the villain you were born to be. Stop waiting for someone to come along and corrupt you. Succumb to the darkness yourself.

"Congratulations!" Anika slammed her glass against Dean, gold liquid spilled over the edges. "Too a successful first dance!" 

They where currently at Anika's and Baby's apartment. It was small, two bedrooms, a small living space and a kitchen. Dean lounged back in one of the living space chairs, drinking a beer slowly. 

Baby opened the front door, carrying grocery bags and still wearing her stripper outfit. 

"It's fucking freezing out there, did you know that?" All the magic and mystery she had possessed on stage and drained out of her, and now she looked like a normal human being, albeit a partially naked one. She froze when she saw the drinks, her eyes narrowed at Anika. "Really? Babe come on, why do you torture me so?"

Dean looked at Anika quizzically, she just rolled her eyes and mouthed the word 'dramatic'.

Baby set the bags on the floor and disappeared for a moment before returning in sweat pants and a long sleeve black shirt.

Something landed in Dean's lap. He picked up a bronze coin, upon closer inspection he realized it was a sobriety coin from AA. 

"Been sober a year now, and this little bugger," She motioned to Anika. "likes to torture me with alcohol whenever she has the chance." 

"Shut up Gab." Dean looked between the two before settling back on Anika. 

"Gab?"

" _Gabriel_. My real name is Gabriel like the ar-"

Dean cut her off. "Like the archangel." Gabriel nodded.

"Huh."

She sat down next to Anika. Dean tossed her her coin back. 

"Well I'm gonna go, I have things to do. People to see." Dean's mark was starting to _itch_ , he stood. Anika and Gabriel stood with him.

Gabriel unlocked the door for him, letting Dean out into the chilly night air. Gabriel closed the door and pressed her head to it. 

"Hey I'll be right back okay babe?"

Anika just waved lazily, leaning back farther onto the couch.

"Lush." Gabriel muttered before following Dean out into the night. 

 

"Hey!" 

Dean heard Gabriel call after him and he turned only slightly. His arm felt like it was on fire. When Gabriel finally caught up to him, he was nearly a block away from the apartment and was close to killing the next living thing he saw. 

He felt her hand on his shoulder and she spun in front of him to stop him from moving forward any further. 

"I suggest you go, _Gabriel_." He emphasized her name in attempt to show how urgent he was. Instead she smiled, the same smile he'd seen on stage. When she next spoke it held the same dark undertones that he had first heard. 

"I know what you are Dean. It's okay, I am too." She leaned in to whisper in his ear. "I suggest finding a place much more remote than an alley way, lest you get caught." 

Dean stared at her incredulously.  _How did she know?_

She started to jog away and Dean turned to watch her leave. She paused for a moment, turning back to call to Dean.

"Oh hey, I forgot to tell you. Some high roller booked you for a private dance tomorrow night. Big money baby!" She held up two 'way to go' thumbs and ran back off towards her building. 

Dean turned began moving again when his mark started to become unbearable. 

* * *

 

Dean opened the door to his motel room and almost fell into it, slamming the door closed. He made a mental note to apologize for the constant abuse of the door. He collapsed onto his hands and knees, his mark glowing in the dim light of the room. It was only then that he noticed the pair of boots. 

He stood quickly, only to find himself faced with the one person he'd been craving the most lately. 

_Sam._

"Hey Dean." 

Sam was in his FBI attire, a pressed suit and Dean couldn't believe his eyes. 

"Sammy? What are you doing here?" 

Sam began to circle Dean, looking him up and down. He was still in the clothes he had worn at the club, no doubt he had several types of glitter and the scent of smoke still lingering on him. Sam finally stopped in front of Dean again. 

Dean couldn't stand it anymore, he rushed forward and gathered Sammy into a hug. He felt Sam wrap his arms around him, Dean clutched him tighter.

"I was so worried about you Dean. You left so suddenly, and then I hear of someone killing people and carving sigils into humans skin. What are you doing Dean?" Sam pushed Dean back to arms length. It was then he noticed the Mark, glowing. "Is it this?" Sam grabbed Dean's arm, yanking it up. 

Dean frowned but didn't say anything. His arm was on fire and Sammy's fingers where a cooling touch. 

"Sam...it's hard to explain." 

Sam then executed a perfect bitch face and threw down Dean's arm in disgust. Sam noticed Dean's expression darken, he barely had time to react before Dean was on him. 

Dean tackled Sam to the floor, pinning his arms to the ground and using his legs to straddle Sam's waist. The expression on Dean's face terrified Sam but instead of backing down he just glared back. 

"You killed him, Dean. A _human_. It's the Mark, Dean!" Sam's voice turned pleading. "We need to get you help. That Mark is driving you insane, why won't you let me help you?" 

Dean scoffed and sat back on Sam's waist, quickly grabbing the knife he kept on the single motel table. Even though his hand's where no longer pinned down, Sam didn't dare move.

"No Sammy. It's not the  _Mark_ driving me insane. It's you." Dean leaned forward, trailing the knife along Sam's face. "It's always been you."

"Dean. If you had listened to any of my goddamn voice mails you would know, I apologized about the 'not wanting to be family.'" A knife a Sam's throat shut him up.

"You think that's what this is about?" Dean moved the knife away, gestured to his arm, then back Sammy. "I thought you where smarter than that."

Sammy took the opportunity to flip Dean onto his back, so that he was now on top.

"Then what is this about Dean!?" Sam's voice was beginning to hold an edge of panic to it.

"You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later your gonna have to admit your roll in turning me into this!"

"Into what? Dean, please..." He sounded so defeated. "Stop speaking in god damn riddles and tell me what this is about!"

"This!" Dean bucked his hips up against Sam.

The movement caused Sam to freeze, loosening his grip on Dean's arms. Dean sat up, pushed Sam away from him, and stood, knife in hand. Sam remained on the ground, staring at Dean like he was a freak.

"We're...bro-"

" _Brothers!_ Yes I know that Sammy. Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I know how sick and messed up it is, to be so...pathetically in  _love_ and  _attracted_ to your own brother?" Dean crouched down besides Sam, pushing his forhead against Sam's. "Of course, I know that."

He grabbed the back of Sam's head forcefully, all ounces of tenderness leaving his body. 

_This one._

"Not any more Sammy. I'm so  _tired_ of living a lie. So  _tired_ of pretending. Pretending I wasn't staring at you when you'd step out of the shower. Pretending I wasn't dreaming of you at night.  _Pretending-"_

"Please...Dean." What Sam was pleading for, even he didn't know. 

"No. Sammy. No more pretending."  _This one._

Dean grabbed Sam by his hair, pulling him up, turning him so that Dean had a knife against his throat and was pressing against his back. Dean pushed the larger man onto the bed, felt around for the gun he'd placed under the pillow and pulled it out. 

"Get on your back Sammy." 

Sam did as he was told, laying down on his back. Dean grabbed a pair of handcuffs from his duffel bag, gun pointed at Sam the entire time. He cuffed Sammy's right hand to the headboard and then his left, causing him to sit with his arms stretched out on either side. 

Dean put the gun down and straddled Sammy's lap. 

"I saw you today..." Sam stated, refusing to look at Dean. "Dancing on stage. Everyone watching you, applauding you." 

Dean smiled sadistically, "Did you enjoy the show?" 

Sam began to laugh, at first just a chuckle but then escalating into the laugh of a madman. 

"What's so funny?" Dean asked harshly grabbing Sam's chin, forcing him to look up.

"You. You really think that dance was good? I've seen prostitutes with better moves than you." The slap Sam received was hard enough to slam the side of his head against the headboard, he continued to laugh.

"Your not Sammy." Dean started to move away but Sam trapped him with his legs.

"Of course I am, Dean. What? Are you the only one allowed to go over the edge?" Sam barked out a laugh. "I chased you across three states, just to find you performing at some shithole, for other men. See Dean, you weren't the only one with hidden....  _desires._ You belong to me."

Dean regained his previous position on Sam's lap. His eyes searching Sam's face for a trick, or signs that this truly wasn't Sammy. He found none, with that realization he shoved down any morality he might had still possessed.  _This one._

Dean leaned forward, close enough that Sam could feel Dean's breath on his lips. Sam closed the distance between their lips, the kiss was hot, heavy, and more of a war for dominance than anything that could be construed as romantic. Dean reached for his knife again and began slicing at Sam's suit jacket, ignoring the noise of protest that Sam made against his mouth. Without breaking the kiss, Dean successfully cut away Sam's jacket and instead of cutting away the collard shirt he just began to unbutton it slowly. Dean broke the kiss to finish unbuttoning Sam's shirt, revealing his flawless chest. 

Dean was reminded, not for the first time, of the beauty of his younger brother's body.

" _Sam..."_ Dean breathed out and Sam smirked, even handcuffed to the bed he knew he was in control of the situation, not Dean. 

Dean began grinding against Sam, both brothers's erections evident against their pants. It was at this point that Dean once again grew conscious of the burning in his arm. He glanced down at the Mark and Sam followed his line of sight. 

"Dean uncuff me." Sam demanded calmly. 

"No." Even to Dean's ear it wasn't convincing, no matter how much he enjoyed his Sammy cuffed like that, it was hard to ignore that tone of voice. 

"Uncuff me, Dean. _Now."_ Sam stared straight into Dean's eyes, he hadn't even finished the command before Dean was climbing off him to retrieve the key from his duffel bag. He unlocked Sam's left hand but not the right. It was only seconds after Dean set the key down so as not to lose it that he was being pinned against the headboard, Sam straddling his waist. 

Sam used his free hand to grab Dean's wrist, unfolding his arm and lowering himself so that he was tracing his tongue over Dean's mark. Dean cried out, startled but it only lasted a second before moans started to fill the motel room.

_Thisss one._

"Sammy!" Dean gasped out his name several time and Sam smirked against Dean's arm. He began kissing his way back up Dean's arm, when he reached the sleeve of Dean's shirt he grabbed the fabric with his teeth and pulled. Dean raised his arms, similar to what he'd done before his dance, soon he was bare chested again. Sam continued his trail of kisses to Dean's neck where he proceeded to bite down, hard.

"Dammit Sammy!" Dean jerked away but Sam held him down.

"You..belong..to me...Dean. Remember that next time you wanna run away." Sam swirled his tongue around the bite mark possessively, his continued his travels until he reached Dean's lips, he chewed lightly as Dean's bottom lip. When he pulled back a little, Dean's lip was swollen and his eyes where glazed over with lust.

"If that's true my baby brother, then also remember this..." Dean moved then, wrapped his arms around Sam's neck, not to choke but to push his chin upwards so that Dean could graze his teeth against his brothers jugular. "Next time you decide that we're  _not family,_ just think about who  **you** belong to." Dean bit down, leaving painful teach marks on his brothers neck and causing Sam's breath to hiss in pain. 

"Dean..." Sam leaned in to whisper into his ear. "I want to feel my cock inside that tight ass of yours." 

The crude words Sam choose had an immediate and desired effect. 

Dean immediately began removing his remaining clothes until he was completely nude. Before Sam finished removing his own pants he took a moment to admire his older brother's body, something he'd done countless times. Dean's sculpted, chiseled body had Sam nearly weak, his eyes traveled down further to Dean's erect member. 

At that point Sam had removed the last of his clothes, with some minor difficulty from still only having use of one hand. 

"Come here Dean..." Dean crawled to where Sam was sitting. "Do you have any lubricant?" 

The blush and slight head nod told Sam there was no such luck, he thought for a moment.

"Suck."

Dean's entire body was on fire, the burning in his arm was now coursing through out him and he thought he might be consumed by it soon if he didn't mind some sort of release soon. Sam's crude words where only making it worse but he did as his baby brother asked anyways. 

 He leaned down and graspes Sam's thick cock in one hand and hesitantly began to suck, first only taking the head in his mouth before sucking more and more. Soon he was close to Sam's base and deep throating his baby brothers cock. 

"Dean..." He felt Sammy grip his hair tightly. The moans that found their way to Dean's ear made him moan in response, causing his throat to vibrate around Sam's cock.

He felt a sudden yank, Sam pulled him up.

"Thats...thats enough, Dean. Now get on, cowboy." 

Dean growled at the nickname but obliged his younger brothers request. He got on his knees and stradled Sam, slowly lowering himself into Sam's thick cock. 

"Oh, Dean your so.... _tight._ Have you ever ridden anyone before?" Sam nuzzled Deans neck as he finally settled on Sam's cock.

Dean shook his head 'no'.

"Only...wanted...you, Sammy.

Sam took a deep breath, intoxicated by just that information. He gave Dean a moment to adjust to the size of him. 

"You ready Dean?"

The fire that had consumed him was raging and it was all Dean could do to nod and begin slowly moving up and down on Sam's cock. 

Dean continued increasing the pace until both him and Sam where moaning uncontrollably. 

_Sammy_

_Dean_

_Sammy!_

_Dean!_

 It was Sammy who came first, firing his load into Dean's ass. It was enough to make Dean cum as well, releasing his load onto Sam's abs.

The fire that had been consuming his body slowly began to slip away. Traveling its way back to the source, his Mark.

Dean collapsed forward and Sam stroked his back softly. 

"Do you think maybe you could unlock me now?" 

Dean chuckled and lazily reached for the key, unlocking Sam before climbing off of Sam and rolling on his back.

Sam rubbed his right wrist, stood and slipped into the bathroom. After quickly cleaning up he walked back into the main room to see Dean, boxers back on and in the process of climbing back into bed. 

Sam grabed his own boxers and pulled them on, it was only then that he noticed the knife Dean had in his hand.

Sam slipped into bed next to Dean, moving close enough to wrap his arms around him when Dean stopped him.

"Wait...dont move."

Dean held the knife firmly in his hand and slowly began carving into Sam's chest. Looking down and trying not to his in pain, next to his broken Devils trap tattoo Dean was carving,

D.W

When he was done he handed the knife to Sam and he gladly followed suit with his own initials. When he finished, he tossed the knife blindly onto the floor, turned off the motel lamp, and grasped Dean tightly in his arms. Dean wasn't going to be leaving him anytime soon. 

Dean was thriving in the sensatjon of being held so tightly and intimately by his brother, his Sammy. He knew though, sex with his brother, no matter how satisfying, wasnt going to sate his growing appetite for murder. 

However right at that moment neither of them cared.

Neither cared that at that moment Gabriel was out prowling the streets for her next victim, or that this act would soon be blamed on Dean Winchester. Neither cared that Officer Sid Bleak was currently looking very closely into Sam and Deans personal background.

Neither of them cared about the blossoming evil that was growing inside each other. The only thing that mattered was

**_D.W & S.W_ **


End file.
